


I'm Still Good at Sex

by darthenna



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Bathroom Sex, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-29 07:08:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darthenna/pseuds/darthenna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fernando and Mats meet in a hotel ahead of a fictional match between Chelsea and Dortmund.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Still Good at Sex

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt at footballkink2.

He could be much taller than him, but he was just a boy. The difference was five years, but he was still a boy. He might be looking at him with barely contained disdain, but he was only a boy. Fernando smirked. This could be fun. 

"Torres was looking at you," Marco told Mats. 

"Probably thinking of poisoning my champagne," Mats snorted, "That's the only way for him to get past me tomorrow." Encouraged by the laughter of his mates he went on. "Though I bet he can't beat me even if I lie dead on the pitch." 

"I wouldn't want you lying dead," he heard a soft voice from behind. 

The boys turned back to see Fernando standing there with a smile on his face and unanimously turned red. The striker's gaze was fixed on Mats, so he didn't even think of moving when his friends fled leaving him alone with the Spaniard. 

Realizing that the silence was getting too uncomfortable Mats tried to explain himself. "Look, F-fernando, I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." 

"Save your breath," Fernando waved his hand slipping on the seat next to the boy, "I know what people are talking about me. Champagne?" 

Mats looked at him dumbfounded. 

"It's not poisoned," Fernando smiled. 

Mats turned even deeper red and took the glass drinking till the last drop. 

"Your coach is going to be mad if you get drunk," Fernando laughed quietly, "I mean madder than usual". 

Mats decided that he liked his laughter and then blushed. It was probably the champagne. 

"I hate formal dinners, don't you?" Fernando said. 

Mats wanted to answer, but-but... Was it Fernando's hand on his knee? On his thigh. On his, oh God, on his groin. What was he even... doing? Mats looked at him open-mouthed, but the Spaniard just winked at him. This was surreal. Mats poured himself more champagne with shaking hands, but when he wanted to take a sip, Fernando's hand (yep, it was definitely Fernando's hand) started massaging his crotch. Mats spluttered and coughed and Fernando patted him on the back. Mats was gasping for air and barely registered how Fernando took his hand and led him out of the hall. He came to his senses only when the striker splashed cold water on him. Looking around Mats saw that they were in the restroom. Alone. Fernando's hand wasn't on his crotch anymore. It was on his butt and right at that moment he was busy sucking a point on his neck which made his knees go weak. 

"W-what are you doing?" Mats moaned. 

Fernando didn't answer, he just bit down on that spot and Mats had to grab the sink as his legs gave in. The Spaniard's left hand went around Mats' waist, the right one started rubbing his dick over his pants. 

"Someone... ah... can... enter," Mats panted thrusting into Fernando's hand. 

"Then we'd better make it quick, right?" Fernando said. 

Without warning he assaulted Mats' mouth with violent kisses. The defender was dizzy, he still couldn't believe that he was making out with Fernando Torres in the hotel bathroom. He didn't know if this was real or not, but he knew that this was damn good. Fernando's grip on his shoulders was almost bruising, Fernando's lips on his were soft, Fernando's tongue was exploring his mouth with confidence and firmness. Mats tilted his head back and closed his eyes clutching at the sink. The striker attacked his white throat biting, licking, kissing everywhere. His hand crept under Mats' dress shirt caressing his defined muscles, playing with his nipples. With the other hand the striker suddenly cupped Mats not really doing anything, just letting him thrust into his palm. The boy's moans turned into whimpers. "Take it off, take it off," he pleaded. 

"I don't speak German, baby," Fernando hummed, but loosening Mat's belt pulled down his pants together with his underwear. 

Mats waited for Fernando to continue what he'd started, but seemed like the striker was content enough with licking the boy's broad chest. With an impatient whine Mats lowered his hand to his swollen member, but Fernando grabbed it before he could touch it. 

"No, no," he said like he was scolding a misbehaving kid, "You can't." 

Mats wanted to shove him back, but one look at the striker's darkened eyes made him shiver. He looked down at the bulge of Fernando's pants and swallowed. "Then fuck me," he whispered unable to believe the words had really left his mouth. 

"What?" Fernando said, though his tone implied he had heard perfectly well. 

"Fuck me," Mats said louder, but his voice was trembling. 

Fernando licked his lips looking at the boy like a wild cat would look at his prey. "Turn over," he commanded calmly. 

Mats wanted to back away, to tell him it was a mistake and went out. He'd had some experience with guys, but not too much and not like this. But then Fernando plunged his fingers in his black hair and licked Mats' lips this time. "Turn over," he whispered and the boy nodded quickly and turning with his back to Fernando, leaned over and put his hands on the sink. 

"Hmm," he heard Fernando's throaty voice and Mats could feel the content smirk on his face. He gasped when the Spaniard's hand came to rest softly on his ass. 

"Relax," Fernando whispered. He brought his fingers to caress Mats' face slowly starting from his temple and finishing on his lips. It took the boy a few seconds to realize he was required to take them into his mouth. He started sucking on them and as a reward Fernando tugged at his dick. Mats groaned tilting his head back. The Spaniard's fingers left his mouth and within seconds filled his ass. The defender whimpered and Fernando soothed him by kissing the point just behind his ear while stretching him mercilessly. 

This sequence of gentle and rough actions was driving Mats crazy. Fernando yanked at his hair forcing him to turn his head and capturing his lips in a kiss and with his tongue still in the boy's mouth entered him with one slick motion. 

Mats cried out and then moaned as the pain from the burn slowly turned into torturous pleasure. Fernando caressed his hair and started slamming into him pulling out almost completely. Mats thought he would soon make holes in the sink, so tight was his grip on it, but otherwise he'd surely appear on the floor, even though Fernando's arm was wrapped around his waist. His erection was completely ignored by the striker and Mats alternated between whimpering with need and crying out in pleasure as Fernando repeatedly hit his prostate. 

"Fernando," he moaned hoarsely, "Fernando..." 

The Spaniard probably liked the way the _r_ in his name rolled out of the boy's tongue, because he rewarded him with a feathery touch of his fingers on Mats' cock. The defender's knees buckled, but Fernando's grip on his waist didn't let him fall down. Mats convulsed in the striker's arms trying to get more contact. Fernando gripped his dick making him cry out and started jerking him off pounding into him with all his might. 

Mats now didn't care that someone could enter, he didn't care that he was being embarrassingly loud, he didn't care that Fernando Torres was fucking him in the hotel restroom. All he cared about was the intense feeling of Fernando inside him, of Fernando thrusting and burying himself in him, of Fernando bringing him to the edge and refusing to grant him release. 

When with the last powerful thrust the striker exploded inside Mats, the throaty sound he made right next to Mats' ear and one movement of his wrist along the defender's member were enough to trigger the boy's orgasm and he came crying out Fernando's name. He came and came on the Spaniard's hand and then melted bonelessly on the floor resting in Fernando's lap. 

The Spaniard gently pushed the wet black strands away from Mats' forehead as the German tried to regain his breath. After a few moments he opened his eyes and smiled shyly at Fernando. The striker couldn't help smiling back. 

"Sorry about earlier," Mats whispered suddenly blushing. 

"Forget about it," Fernando said with a smirk, "Just... don't underestimate me next time." 

"I won't," Mats promised. Then he sat up and pressed his lips tentatively to Fernando's. The Spaniard hesitated at first, but not long enough for the boy to notice. 

When they pulled back Mats had a stupid, adorable grin on his face. Fernando fought the urge to roll his eyes. He's just a boy, he reminded himself caressing Mat's face, very beautiful boy.


End file.
